When your trash is bigger than your trash hole.

I went to the Five Points Deli this afternoon for lunch. I had my usual: egg salad sandwich on pumpernickel, with lettuce, onion, tomato, bell peppers, sweet peppers, and cheddar with spicy mustard. I realized while throwing away my trash that they've procured some new trash cans. They are they kind with the circular opening on top for trash, with the shelf above for trays. Their trash circle is bigger than the plates they put the food on. It's pretty inconsequential, and hardly worth blogging about, but I still felt that it needed pondering. Things like that make me happy for some reason. If they made me sad, I'd worry more about it, but since it makes me happy, I'll just go with it.

I'm reading the new Chuck Klosterman book right now. It's actually Ian's, but I "borrowed" it when I left LA for the plane-ride back home. I like it--it's made me laugh. I always want to write after I've read some of his books. I guess I liked Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs the best--but it's been so long since I've read it, I'm not sure. This one is quite good though if you're looking to read about music and pop culture.

We saw The Science of Sleep in some artsy theater in West Hollywood. While viewing the previews, some douche behind us started yelling about how the Pope really died of AIDS. He also kicked the row of chairs in front of him (in which I was sitting). I was worried that he was going to do that for the duration of the film. He didn't. The movie itself was fun to watch. It'll not be my favorite movie of the year, but it is a blast to see. Impressive--actually. Guy was my favorite character--I would imagine that there are others out there who agree with me. It's a delight to look at--I can't think of a better way to describe it. It's like a movie that you want to touch--or, rather, it is a movie you want to touch.

Ian and I went to see Grizzly Bear while I was in LA (A week ago last night, actually). Here's the thing--I like live music but I don't really relish staying up late standing very close to drunk strangers in smelly bars. I am a fuddy-duddy. Most of the time, the live version of the ipod-fodder I listen just doesn't sound as good as it does in my headphones. Things have improved a lot since some places stopped allowing people to smoke inside. But sometimes you see a band live and it enhances what you listen to in your car or while walking to work. Rogue Wave was like that. Grizzly Bear was like that. Anyway--You should go see Grizzly Bear play if you get a chance. You get to see a guy play the clarinet and flute on stage (though not at the same time). They look like this:


I picked up a shift at Old Navy last night. I got a call yesterday afternoon and when I said I could come in, the CEO (I forget what that acronym stands for--it's not Chief Executive Officer--but it means the manager in charge at the time) seemed really enthused. When i got there, the CEO who gave me my "one-minute" rundown of the store goings-on emphasized how enthused the guy was. Whenever I go in like that, when I'm not on the schedule, I do recovery. I fold clothes and organize them by ascending size. That's what I spent four hours doing yesterday. It's oddly calming--almost zen-like for me--or as close as I get to anything like that. It's simply fulfilling to take a 8 x 8 table of messily-stacked and unfolded shirts, and turn the table into a picture-perfect array of colorful and neatly-stacked retail items. Anyway--as we were finishing up, the CEO turned to me and informed me that I am an excellent recovery-er. Or recover-er. Ever the teacher's pet--I blushed. I got an "A" in working retail.